


Learn to Love the Skies

by inksheddings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Nogitsune, Season 5 Spoilers, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles opened his mouth to argue, hands clenched into fists at his side. But then he let out a breath and closed his eyes, shaking his hands loose. "Just . . . I need to know, Derek. I need to know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learn to Love the Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to whymzycal for the always fabulous beta. 
> 
> Title from Mumford & Sons' "Hopeless Wanderer."

"What does it feel like?"

Derek continued packing books, t-shirts, and toiletries into his suitcase but glanced at Stiles and said, "What does what feel like?"

"Changing yourself at will. Being something else but, you know, because you want to and you can." Stiles shrugged and scrunched his eyebrows. "Or because you can and you want to."

Derek didn't have a tremendous amount of packing to finish up. He'd come back to Beacon Hills with very little. What he was mostly leaving with were the sort of things that didn't need a suitcase or a box. He sat down on the edge of his bed and gave Stiles his full attention.

"I'm not sure how well I can describe it."

"Yeah, well. I can describe the feeling of changing into something that I couldn't control. I couldn't control what I became, what I did, what I--"

"What _it_ did," Derek interrupted. He thought he was getting an idea of what Stiles was talking about. The power of the Nogitsune had been strong, but it had never been a part of Stiles himself. But Derek knowing that, and even Stiles knowing that, didn't mean shit when Stiles was the one stuck with the remnants of things gone oh-so-bad.

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, hands clenched into fists at his side. But then he let out a breath and closed his eyes, shaking his hands loose. "Just . . . I need to know, Derek. I need to know."

Derek watched Stiles, standing still now, and remembered that the only other time he'd seen him so still was when he wasn't Stiles.

Derek took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He thought about the pain, his flesh torn open by the Berserker, making breathing near impossible. He thought about Scott, in trouble, and how angry he felt that he couldn't help him and the others. He thought about the look that Stiles had given him when Derek told him to go and save Scott, leave him, as if he had been torn in an entirely different way. And as his body had changed, as fur and teeth and claws had replaced the burning in his chest with strength and clear-headedness, he'd thought about his mom, his dad, his--

"Family."

Stiles opened his eyes and looked at Derek, curiousity replacing frustration.

"It felt like family. Like pack. Like my parents, my siblings. Like Scott. And like you."

Stiles stood still for a few moments longer, then his body relaxed, movement replacing tension, and he sat down on the bed next to Derek, their legs nearly touching.

"Does Cora know you're coming?" Stiles asked, but it didn't actually feel like a change in topic.

"Yeah. She's picking me up from the airport."

Looking at Stiles' face, Derek didn't know what to make of his expression. He seemed calm, like maybe he'd gotten what he came here for, but the fact that this had been sitting in Stiles' head with nowhere to go until now . . .

"Stiles, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how what happened still affected you. I should have, I--"

"Not your responsibility. I talked with my dad a few times, mostly at his insistence," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "And that helped. He wanted me to, ah, 'see' someone, but . . . been there, done that, never wanted the t-shirt."

Derek nodded, not much one for talk therapy himself.

"So, you're really leaving."

It wasn't a question, so Derek didn't answer.

"You left before," Stiles said, bumping his shoulder against Derek's. It felt awkward, like Stiles was trying hard to make the situation not awkward, to lighten it up, but it was what it was.

Derek shook his head, not really denying the possibility of coming back once again, but he only wanted to live in the now. And right now he had something he could possibly offer Cora, where before all he'd had were bits and pieces of himself. Nothing whole, nothing solid. He didn't know how to tell this to Stiles, didn't know if he wanted to, either. He needed to tell it to Cora.

"Okay," Stiles said, nodding once firmly. "Okay."

And he sounded content, like he got it, even without Derek actually explaining himself.

Derek leaned into Stiles, unsure if he should ask, "Do you want me to . . ." It would be easy, to do it for Stiles, in this moment. To offer him the comfort of a transformation that could be something other than deadly; it could be soft and comforting, and Derek was learning the strength of softness and comfort.

Stiles shifted slightly and Derek felt long fingers in his hair-- not stroking, not petting, just a gentle warmth.

"No," Stiles answered. "I think I have to figure out how I do that for myself, you know?"

Derek did know.

"Thanks." Stiles shoulder-bumped him again, but this time it felt more natural.

Derek looked at him, quirking an eyebrow in question.

Stiles bit his lip and took a deep breath. He leaned close, then closer, until they were nearly cheek-to-cheek, and he said quietly, directly into Derek's ear, "Like family." Repeating Derek's words, "Like family."

 

**end**


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